


Ham and Cheese

by jewboykahl



Category: New Girl (TV 2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Ham and Cheese baby, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Nick tries to come up with a way to get Schmidt into an exclusive LA party that Cece and Jess were invited to—and Schmidt finds out why he has been acting so weird lately.
Relationships: Nick Miller/Schmidt (New Girl)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Ham and Cheese

**Author's Note:**

> tbh i have no idea at what point in the canon timeline this would take place cause i essentially copied the premise of the prince party?? idk LMAO who cares its just a one shot

Trying to sneak into another LA party that only hot girls are invited to—the title of Schmidt’s tragic, unsuccessful journey to elevate his social status. 

Today those hot girls are his good friends, Jess and Cece, though Schmidt hardly sees how any self-respecting person of wealth finds a glittery middle school teacher classy enough to be bumped to the front of the line. Cece makes sense—she’s a golden goddess—only glittery purposefully on her eyelids. 

Schmidt watches quietly in a combination of intrigue and horror and Coach and Winston perform a strange but apparently charming party ritual they coined _Fire and Ice_. Even stranger, it usually works, and it works tonight. They leave Schmidt and Nick to wait outside the velvet ropes decorated with ridiculously large and buff men who look as though this is the only profession they are capable of. If Schmidt was more realistic with himself, he would turn around and accept a night of sitting on the couch dog-tagging outfits in fashion catalogues while Nick traumatizes himself with reruns of _Ancient Aliens_. If he were to be extra realistic, he would acknowledge that he avoids these kinds of nights because he loves them way too much. It is partially trying to pace himself and mostly burying this feeling. 

Schmidt lets out a sigh when Winston and Coach disappear into the club. He places a hand on his hip, peers over to Nick. He pinches his eyebrows together at the image of Nick chowing down on a granola bar. “What is this—a Chewy Dipps? Where the heck did this come from?” 

Nick averts his big, brown eyes to him in that way that Schmidt hates to love. He doesn’t finish chewing before he answers incoherently, “I found it in my jacket.”

“And you’re eating it?! How long has it been in there?” 

“Hard to say,” Nick shrugs, taking another bite. He nods his head toward the bouncers. “Are you gonna bribe ‘em or are we gonna go home? I really want a burrito.” 

“Well you may as well go home then because there certainly isn’t any grade-E meat rolls in there for you,” Schmidt retorts, tossing a hand up in the air, “and I tried to slip of them a hundy, but they wouldn’t bite.” 

“A hundred dollars?” Nick spits, a bit  
of chocolate-covered oats flying from his mouth. Schmidt gives him a hellacious glare that makes him finish chewing before he continues, “You wanna spend a hundred dollars to go spend fifteen dollars on a shot?!” 

“That is an exclusive party, sir! I heard that Fred Armisen is in there disguised as a woman! Of course I would pay over a hundred dollars to see that!”

Nick rolls his eyes, “When is Fred Armisen not disguised as a woman? Is this about Cece?” 

“What? How does Cece fit into this equation?” Schmidt wonders, attention back on Nick. 

Crumbling up the empty granola bar package and stuffing it into his pocket (earning a very disgusted glare from Schmidt), Nick explains, “You just wanna go in there to be close to Cece.” 

“Nick, if that were the case, everyone would know and I would have already climbed in through a bathroom window. You of all people should know I’ve moved on, you were the first person I alerted when her scent stopped giving me a half-y.” 

Nick concedes to this point with a nod. He wraps his arms around himself, “Then why do you wanna be here so bad?” 

Schmidt gestures to the venue, “It’s a freakin’ B-list celebrity fiesta in there! I want to be where the people are! I want to be part of that world! I’m a dark, Jewish Ariel!” 

Nick snorts, “Don’t call yourself dark, you’re whitest person in the entire world,” 

“You know I’m talking about my hair—you know what?! What are _you_ doing here?!” 

Nick pauses. He scans Schmidt’s face and lets his shoulders rise and fall lazily. “I just wanna be where _my_ people are. I’m sorry that isn’t good enough for you.” 

Schmidt falters when he detects hurt in Nick’s words and expression. It’s a microscopic glint that perhaps only he would notice, but he knows Nick Miller better than anyone, and he has known for a while about Nick’s changed behavior toward him. It feels like they are edging closer and closer to something, but neither are willing to begin the conversation. 

Suddenly, Nick’s face lights up. “I have an idea to get you in,” he exclaims, takes a few steps forward and points to himself, “Follow my lead, alright?” 

“What are you doing?” Schmidt’s eyebrows come together again, following Nick with purposeful steps. 

“ _Ham and Cheese_!” Nick utters proudly, holding up a fist. 

“Absolutely not!” Schmidt snaps, grasping Nick’s arm and dragging it downward. “ _Ham and Cheese_ is an unrehearsed disaster!” 

Nick’s face is soft again. It makes Schmidt’s soften to match, and admire the perfect length of stubble gracing the other man’s face. Those warm brown eyes are pleading again. Schmidt’s stomach strangely bubbles with anticipation—as if he can feel something finally happening. 

“Just trust me,” Nick says calmly. 

Schmidt sighs and nods, and follows Nick the remaining distance to the bouncers. Now his stomach is filled with rocks and is already incredibly embarassed about whatever shenanigan Nick has concocted.

“Good evening, sir,” Nick greets the thick-necked bouncer once they reach the front of the line a few people later. It’s not a great start, but it is already insurmountably better than Schmidt was expecting. 

The large man glares down at Nick, completely unamused. Nick continues, gesturing diplomatically, “My name is Nicolas Miller, lawyer. And I hate to pull this card out, but my client here...” 

Nick turns to Schmidt and claps a hand on his shoulder, introducing him with the wave of a hand, “Itchy Benovoli, he was supposed to be on the list! He’s friends with the host. He only speaks Italian, though, that’s why he tried to bribe you—it’s part of his culture,” Nick pauses, then adds, “and can’t tell us the name of the host.”

The bouncer blinks once, remaining a motionless boulder in their path. Nick speaks again, Schmidt growing increasingly angry beside him. “He is a world class fashion designer! Haven’t you ever heard of the Swuit?” 

Schmidt balls his fists at his side. He would open his mouth and blow their cover, but he is at a genuine loss for words, unable to decide if he is mostly furious, amused, or mortified. 

The large man repeats, “Swuit?” 

Nick nods, lets out a nervous chuckle, “Yes! Oh, it’s all the rage in Europe,”

With that, he whips his phone out of his front pocket and swipes for a moment until he finds what he is looking for. Schmidt feels the urge to actually vomit when he shows the bouncer a photo of Jess posing with outstretched arms and a ridiculous, Cheshire smile in the light grey sweatshirt-suit the pair at one point thought would be a great idea. The photograph is one of the thousands of reminders that they were completely wrong about that. 

Nick extrapolates, “This is, uh, Beatrice... Schmidt,”—he swallows and nods his head, as if trying to convince himself as well—“she’s a very popular model in Germany, very popular,” 

The bouncer’s face remains stone as he takes a moment to scrutinize the picture. He then just points to the side and spouts, “Next.” 

“Come on,” Schmidt grumbles. He leads Nick away from the entrance of the club and feels a smile creeping across his face. He shakes his head, chuckling, “Itchy?” 

Nick looks at him with a smile and shrugs, “It’s the most Italian sounding name I could think of.” 

“Not, like, Vinny or Toni? _Itchy_?” 

“I don’t know, Schmidty, I was tryna help you get in,” Nick sighs, “I’m sorry.” 

Schmidt pauses, scanning his eyes along Nick’s face. He feels his heart clenching as the sadness prevails. He wishes he could expel any negative emotions from his friend’s consciousness—especially if they are caused by him in some way. He wets his lips and inquires, “What’s wrong, Nick?”

Nick immediately averts his eyes. “What are you talking about?” 

“There’s something going on with you, and don’t you dare tell me nothing because I know you. I know when something is wrong and I know that something is bothering you right now.” Schmidt asserts, continuing to make Nick’s shoulders tense up. He steps toward him in attempts to provide a comforting presence. His tone is soft, “Please talk to me. You’re my best friend.” 

Schmidt is pleasantly surprised when dark eyes flip up to meet his stare. Though Nick’s jaw is set, clamped shut, he feels as those they are communicating through the long, intense look. He feels his heart grow heavier with each passing second. The contact provides no answers but somehow means so much. 

They remain like this until the gaze is broken by Nick. He begins to say something as he scans their surroundings, but interrupts himself to announce something very off topic, “The bouncers are changing,” 

“What?” Schmidt asks confusedly as Nick brushes past him. 

Nick spins back around to face Schmidt and says, “This is our chance to get in! There’s new bouncers over there, and one is a lady! We’re doin’ _Ham and Cheese_ , alright? Just get in line and pretend like you didn’t know I was here when I come up to ya.” 

“Nick, it’s fine, let’s just go get burritos, alright? I don’t feel like getting turned away for the third time tonight. I’ve maxed out on not being cool enough.” 

“You have to trust me,” Nick pleads, expression severe for some reason. His behavior beginning to make Schmidt worry. “Just let me do this for you.” 

They are caught in another brief stare off before Schmidt wordlessly nods his head. Nick offers a weak smile before turning and walking off. Taking his instructions, Schmidt wanders to the short line once again, recognizing that the two guards are completely different people from just a few moments ago, one being a tall, blonde woman. He attempts to act as though his best friend is not behaving very squirrelly and that he had not already been denied access to the party twice. 

When he makes it to the front of the line he begins to panic. No matter the unknown reason, a wave of relief washes over him when he hears Nick voice call his name from the side, “Hey, Schmidty!”   
  
Thank God he does not have to go along with a ridiculous alias from Nick’s imagination. Schmidt sees that his friend had everyone’s attention and follows suite. Nick exhales deeply and places a hand on his shoulder. His nerves return when Nick begins speaking. 

“Listen, I know how much this party means to you. I know you wanna go in there and impress Cece and drink expensive drinks and be with fabulous or famous people—I get it. And you deserve that, you got a lota and amazing... I know the way I live my life isn’t extravagant enough for you, or exciting enough for you, but I just... I have to finally say something,” 

Schmidt’s heart is back to feeling incredibly weighed down. Suddenly the electric bass emitting from the club dissipates. The only rhythmic noise he can pay attention to is the beating is own chest and the sound of Nick’s voice. He knows Nick is much better at make-believe than lying, so he tells himself that this is all that is—a fake character, a fantasy. That is why there is not a single bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. _Not_ because he’s telling the truth. 

“I’m in love with you. I have been for so long now and I just need you to know that... I need to know I didn’t just do nothing like I always do,” Nick continues, a short, sarcastic smile gracing his lips temporarily. They quickly form a straight line again as he dips his head toward the club, “I know your world is in there. I’m just a cheap, messy bartender. I know I’ll never be the kind of person you want or need, but I just need you to know that I don’t see how anyone could possibly  
love you more than I do. You’re everything to me.” 

Schmidt is rendered absolutely speechless. He never knew how much he needed to hear those words until they were spouted outside of a night club at 11P.M. by his best friend—his favorite person in the whole world. 

And now, something even more breathtaking happens. Nick cups his cheek and leans in for a kiss. 

His lips are surprisingly soft and taste faintly of chocolate. Schmidt inhales deeply and instinctually returns the gesture, heart officially falling to the base of his stomach. 

Nick pulls back far, far too quickly, leaving Schmidt’s head reeling. He opens his eyes to see a swift, sad smile grace Nick’s lips before he drops his hand and begins walking away. Schmidt is left frozen in time, unable to process everything that was just said and done. 

“Holy shit,” a feminine voice sounds from behind him. Schmidt looks over his shoulder to find security guard’s severe features contorted into a humbled expression. She sniffs, “go to him!” 

Schmidt agrees and sucks in a shaky breath. He has no idea why Nick thought that would convince anyone with a heart to allow him entry into a party that would only separate the two. He supposes it does make him appear wealthy and desirable, but who the hell cares about any of that when he is potentially, genuinely loved by his favorite person on Earth? 

“Nick! Wait!” Schmidt exclaims after taking a few steps in the direction Nick headed. He did not make it too far, and he can make out the back of his head. He jogs after him, head spinning more and more with the decreasing proximity. 

Nick turns around, vaguely confused, but mostly disappointed. “Damn it, did that really not work? I thought for sure—“ 

  
“Did you just make all of that up?” Schmidt interrupts, tone urgent. His breathing is still heavy and his eyes do not leave Nick’s despite their wandering. “Did you mean any of that?” 

Nick lips curl into what Schmidt likes to call his “lazy liar smile”. He shakes his head and murmurs, “Nah, I was just doin’ _Ham and Cheese_ , you know, to get into the party. I was just playing a role, that was all my character—I was just...“ 

Schmidt’s throat tightens as Nick raises a hand to wipe away a bit of sweat from his forehead. He knows that this makes Nick’s speech true—all he said was genuine. 

He can no longer take it. Schmidt surges forward and grasps Nick’s stubbly face, bringing him in for another, more desperate kiss on the lips. He finally feels that he knows what has been going on inside not only Nick’s, but his own mind. Feelings of completion and contentment wash over him like an intense tidal wave. Relief joins the mix of feelings when Nick kisses back—hard. 

Schmidt feels the urge to burst into tears when Nick’s warm hands rests on his biceps, squeezing slightly. He cannot believe this is happening. It is something deep down he knows he always wanted, but hardly thought feasible.

Withdrawing from one another’s lips, Schmidt is sure to keep Nick there with a firm grasp on his cheeks. He smooths his thumbs over his prickly beard and presses their foreheads together. He cannot help but smile widely and breathe heavily. 

“So I guess...” Nick starts, and Schmidt leans back a bit more to address him properly. His eyebrows are knit together and his expression is somewhere between elated and terrified. 

“You guess that I don’t care that you can’t get me into a fancy party and I love you for who you are no matter what?” Schmidt tries, smile remaining. Nick lets out a breath and returns the grin. Schmidt is encouraged to continue, “Of course I love you. I’d be an idiot not to love you. People who don’t think I love you are freakin’ idiots.” 

“Hey, I didn’t know,” Nick reminds him with a jesting frown. 

Schmidt shrugs, “I said what I said.” 

They share a chuckle as Nick shakes his head and hooks his arms around Schmidt’s middle, “Come here, you little shit,” 

Schmidt smiles into another warm, passionate kiss before wrapping Nick up in a warm, happy hug. They remain in full view of LA citizens and tourists as they hold one another tight, finally resolving the odd tension that had been plaguing the two for a while. 

Nick asks, breaking the silence, “Are we like... Can we still get burritos or do you want me to take you out for like... sushi or somethin’ fancy?” 

Rolling his eyes at the other man’s fixation on food, he pulls away and replies, “I don’t care what we eat so long as I’m with you.” 

Nick smiles, “Are you gonna be super nice to me all the time now? ‘Cause honestly that freaks me out a little bit.” 

“Shut up and enjoy the emotional intimacy! Open your heart, you caveman.” Schmidt retorts, half-joking to satisfy their trope. He reaches a hand out for Nick to take. 

“There it is,” Nick snorts and accepts the hand. They lace their fingers together and begin walking down the street. “Do you think we should tell the others what happened?” 

“They’ll figure it out.” Schmidt assures, rejecting the idea of anything interfering with their night of lounging on the couch alone together. 


End file.
